


Coevolution: (Peanut) Butter and/or Jam

by unkissed



Series: Coevolution [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Banter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 21:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: One never really knows a person until they've made sandwiches together.A little drabble in the Coevolution series.





	Coevolution: (Peanut) Butter and/or Jam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silkoversteel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkoversteel/gifts).



> For silkoversteel who writes the most in-depth (and incidentally flattering) commentary. You put this little idea in my head when you said, “I feel like you could write a chapter with them eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and it would be great to read because you have their personalities so well developed.” Challenge accepted! LOL!

It’s Easter break.

 

 

“That is positively the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” Scorpius remarks, mumbling around a bite of slightly chewed sandwich. He covers his mouth with a serviette and politely divests himself of the offending morsel of food.

 

“I don’t know whether to be reassured by that, or highly offended,” I muse wryly, glancing at him curiously as he cleanses his palate with a hasty swig of pumpkin juice. I take another bite of my own sandwich just to make sure that neither the peanut butter nor the jam is spoiled, nor the bread stale.

 

“The most horrid combination of ingredients ever,” Scorpius says, still a bit choked, “What is wrong with people?”

 

I chew thoughtfully. The bread is pillow soft with no hint of lingering crust, the peanut butter is wonderfully savory and sweet, while the strawberry jam adds a delightfully tart note to the sweetness of the combined elements. It is the most perfect peanut butter and jam sandwich I’ve ever made, and Scorpius doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.

 

Scorpius goes on, as if he had been personally victimized by the peanut butter and jam sandwich and by its popularity, “I don’t understand why somebody in history decided to put together two condiments that so clearly do not belong. And then everyone else decided it was a good idea and kept doing it.”

 

“You act as if you’ve never had peanut butter and jam before,” I say.

 

Scorpius pauses and his eyes lift to the ceiling of my kitchen. He appears to be searching his archival mind. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

 

This is hard to believe, and I raise a skeptical brow. I am about to open my mouth to say, _what sort of kid has never had a peanut butter and jam sandwich before the age of sixteen?_ But I quickly close my mouth because I already know the answer. I’ve always known that Scorpius grew up rather sheltered and over-protected, especially before he came to Hogwarts.

 

“What?” Scorpius glares at me defensively, reading my dubious look. “Dad’s deathly allergic to strawberries and mum is opposed to peanuts.” Then he adds, joking (I think), “I thought you knew every detail of my weird family, Albie – come on, you’re disappointing me.”

 

Oh, yes, now I remember. One sure way to kill Draco Malfoy is to feed him a spoonful of strawberry jam. Important thing to know about one’s enemies, not that I wish anaphylaxis upon my boyfriend’s father, even though I think he’s a prick. And now I seem to recall Astoria Greengrass’ inexplicable aversion to peanuts, amongst her other inexplicable aversions (i.e., me).

 

“So what do you put on scones, if not jam? What do you put on peanut butter and banana sandwiches, if not peanut butter?” I ask, genuinely curious, and also surprised that I don’t already know the answer.

 

“First of all, _gross_ – I didn’t know peanut butter and banana was a thing.” Scorpius cuts off the bitten portion of the sandwich and puts the rest on my plate without even asking. Obviously, I’m not going to refuse a perfect pb &j sandwich. “Second of all, butter. Straight up salted sweet cream Irish butter. Just put some of that on a scone, or even better on bread, and I’m set for tea.”

 

“Duly noted. I shall only serve toast and butter to my beloved at teatime,” I say with a firm nod and a peck on his cheek.

 

“I never said anything about toast for tea,” Scorpius corrects me. “You know I’m all about toast at breakfast. But for afternoon tea, I’m honestly happiest with a butter sandwich.”

 

I blink slowly, making sure I heard him right. “A _butter sandwich_? As in literally butter between two slices of _not_ toasted bread?”

 

Scorpius nods as he helps himself to exactly that. “Yeah. We never have afternoon tea at school. Which, I suppose, is why you haven’t noticed it’s my favorite.” Then he pouts slightly, only briefly, and recovers quickly to merrily slice the block of Irish butter with a knife. “But at home, that’s what I have for tea every day.”

 

I continue to stare at Scorpius, watching him astutely, waiting for any hint that he’s taking the piss. But he cuts four neat rectangles of butter, arranges them on a slice of white bread, covers it with another slice of bread, divides the sandwich into triangular quarters, and proceeds to eat one of them. My eyes narrow and I stare at him hard, my arms crossed over my chest. He can’t possibly keep up this charade long enough to swallow. But he bloody does! And he devours the entire quarter of sandwich in two bites before eagerly moving on to the next.

 

I’m still in disbelief, my arms remain crossed, but I probably have to concede that Scorpius isn’t playing around. “That… is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever put in your mouth, and that’s saying a lot, considering the things you’ve been doing to me lately.”

 

Scorpius smirks around a mouthful of butter sandwich. “Are you implying that you’re disgusting, Albus Potter? Because I think you’re delicious. Every part.” He finishes his bite of sandwich and noisily licks his fingertip clean.

 

I blush unexpectedly and let my arms unfold as I giggle at this ridiculous boy who I somehow fall more deeply in love with every time I discover some weird quirk – like his predilection for eating butter sandwiches and giving head. Not at the same time, though.

 

I lean close and nuzzle my nose against his cheek. “You think I’m delicious, hm?” I drawl, attempting seduction, “How about having a bit of _me_ for afternoon tea?” I help myself to a bite of his sandwich and then immediately regret it. “ _Gross_. How do you even swallow that? I just can’t deal with the texture and the saltiness.”

 

We both realize the cheap innuendo that is to be had in that statement and synchronously jibe, “That’s what _he_ said…”


End file.
